


The Revenge Game

by AvaSafari



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Time Travel, F/M, Horror, Mystery, Oneshot, Thriller, magical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaSafari/pseuds/AvaSafari
Summary: Hermione receives an invitation to a “Revenge Game.” At 12 Grimmauld Place, she ends up locked in a room with four of her classmates: Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and king Slytherin himself Tom Riddle.It becomes clear that this revenge game is quite literal and allows the mystery host to kill participants as the game progresses. Hermione doesn’t understand why she is here. She’s the only one to have received an invitation. Who is the mystery host and what is the final purpose of this game?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tomione_Fest18](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tomione_Fest18) collection. 



> Prompt: Hermione receives an invitation to a “Revenge Game.” They say curiosity killed the cat, but unable to resist finding out more, she attends. At 12 Grimmauld Place, she ends up locked in a room with four of her classmates: Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and king Slytherin himself Tom Riddle.
> 
> It becomes clear that this revenge game is quite literal and allows the mystery host to kill one of his previous tormentors each morning. Hermione doesn’t understand why she is here. She’s the only one to have received an invitation when the others were all tricked or abducted into attending. Who is the mystery host and what is the final purpose of this game?
> 
> Alpha/Beta: Darklordherself. Thanks for being my moral support and a great friend! I’m so glad we were able to finish our stories together! *pats you and self on back*
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, this world and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, I am merely playing in it. This story is also loosely based on the Manga of the same name “Revenge Game” by Kurokawa and Komachi.

Walking up to 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione clutched the invitation tightly in her hand. The day was overcast and gloomy, the building dark and foreboding, and as if on cue, a raven began cawing nearby. The envelope felt heavy as if weighed down by her unease. It was printed on fine, smooth cardstock and read: 

_Hermione Granger  
This is the time for revenge, I hereby invite you to take part in a revenge game._

It was unsigned and yet, who could the host be, other than her best friend Harry Potter? He lived here with his uncle Sirius Black after the death of his parents, after all. But why the mysterious invitation delivered by post? Why not just hand it to her in person? And what exactly did he mean by a revenge game? 

Too many questions swirled in Hermione’s mind and she was a slave to her own curiosity. Reaching for the front door, she found it unlocked. 

“Harry? Harry, are you in here?” 

Her calls were answered by silence, so she stepped inside and started walking down the dim hallway. Too late she realized that someone had been lying in wait for her arrival. She glimpsed the flash of a light behind her, as the stunning spell hit its target and her world turned black.

“Wakey, wakey Mudblood.” 

Hermione rolled onto her back blinking her eyes, once, twice, and slowly sat up. Her head was pounding and she felt a bit disoriented, momentarily forgetting where she was. Looking around, she was startled to see Draco Malfoy stooped over her and sneering. 

“Have a nice nap, princess? Did someone finally knock some sense into that know-it-all head of yours? While you were sleeping and being bloody useless, we were trying to figure out how to escape this room.” 

“Trying to escape...Wait, what?” Hermione mumbled reaching for her wand only to grab empty air and finally noticing the other occupants around her. 

Pansy Parkinson glared in her direction, Blaise Zabini leaned casually against a wall, and king Slytherin himself, Tom Riddle paced back and forth seemingly lost in thought. She couldn’t make sense of this group, they certainly weren’t friends of hers or Harry’s. Why would they be here of all people? Her mind clearing, she remembered being stunned in the first place. 

“Did the rest of you receive invitations to the game as well?” Hermione asked standing up and adjusting her clothing and hair nervously.

“What invitation? What game?” Pansy barked, “I got an owl from Draco to meet so we could discuss our upcoming engagement.” 

“Engagement? Bloody hell, Pansy, you really are gullible. I told you already that my parents signed a contract with the Greengrasses, get it through your thick skull, it’s over between us. I got an owl from mother, she’s on holiday with father in France, and wanted me to pick up something supposedly urgent from Sirius. When I arrived here, I was ambushed. What about you Blaise? How did you end up here?”

Blaise’s face flushed, but it was hard to see on his dark complexion. He recounted how he’d been shopping in Diagon Alley and rounded a corner through Knockturn. He was caught off guard and like the others woke up in this room. 

Everyone turned to look at Tom pacing. Sensing four pairs of eyes upon him, Tom stopped mid step to focus his full attention on the bushy haired Gryffindor in a pit of snakes. “You said you received an invitation, is that correct Miss Granger? Or can I call you Hermione?” 

“Granger is fine. I wouldn’t say we’re exactly on a first name basis Riddle.” She crossed her arms, defensively.

“Curious, that you should receive a summons while the rest of us appear to have been tricked or coerced into being here. And you mentioned a game? Is that what this is?”

“You tell me Riddle? I know as much as you do, I’m trapped in this room, same as you. All I know, is that I received an invitation to join a revenge game. It didn’t say anything more, it was unsigned and delivered by mail. I assumed Harry was too busy to drop it off in person, but when I came inside, I didn’t see him anywhere.” 

At the mention of Harry Potter, everyone grew silent. Hermione felt a prickle along her spine, why did it feel as if the air had been sucked from the room? 

“Granger...why are you referring to Potter in the present tense?” Draco carefully drawled. 

“What do you mean, present tense?” Hermione trailed off, lurching forward and slipping into a forgotten memory. 

****  


* * *

  


It was just a flash of a scene. Watching Harry climb over the astronomy tower railing, Ron rushing over to grab him, tripping and them both tumbling over. Hermione was in shock. This can’t be a real memory, it must be a bad dream. 

“Wake up Hermione. Wake up Hermione!” She chanted over and over, louder and louder until her voice pitched into an hysterical sob. 

Slap! Hermione’s head jerked to the side, cheek burning, she glared daggers at the smug face of Draco Malfoy. 

“That’s for third year, you crazy bint. Now snap out of it!” he quipped, pleased at the opportunity for payback after all these years.

Tom stared at the display in cold calculation, taking a moment to assess her. Clearly the Mudblood had been obliviated, but how many of her memories were missing and why? They had been in this drawing room connected to a bathroom for about twenty minutes, windows magically sealed, doors locked, and wandless. The five of them were gathered for a purpose and from the sound of the girl’s ranting, it had something to do with a game of revenge. 

Tom had similarly received an owl this morning, but his letter was most disturbing. It stated, _“I’ve got your diary, come to 12 Grimmauld Place post haste or I shall be lighting some fiendfyre for warmth in your absence.”_

How dare someone touch and steal his things. This mystery host must know the true value of his diary if they were threatening fiendfyre. It couldn’t have been Harry Potter, as he had toppled to a most satisfactory death several days ago, along with that pathetic Weasley parasite. 

Tom had killed two birds with one stone, which was quite an accomplishment, if he did say so himself. Remembering the golden boy made his blood boil, few knew the fact that Tom Riddle hated Harry Potter. Potter also an orphan had everything handed to him, while Riddle worked hard for every gain. He despised being compared to that privileged waste of space that coasted through life with ease. In fact, if Potter were here right now, Tom would gladly imperio him to his doom again and again. 

So, if Potter wasn’t behind this sorry plot, the Mudblood in their midst, and given the location they stood, Sirius Black must be the host of this farce.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

The haggard figure of Sirius Black materialized in the worn and dusty mirror above the fireplace. 

“Good afternoon children! From this moment on, you will be participating in my proposed game. The rules are simple, you just have to find the rat amongst you that has revealed all your secrets to me and kill them. Everything about you is being monitored and I will be watching at all times. Every hour, someone will be killed, until only one of you is left standing. You’ll never get out of here, unless you kill the rat.” 

“What the actual fuck.” Draco scoffed, “Looks like Sirius went off the deep end just like dear aunt Bella.” 

“Sirius! Sirius, it’s me, Hermione! Don’t do this, listen to reason. Please, you’re like an uncle to me, let us out! Let’s talk about this, I miss Harry too, but this isn’t the answer. This isn’t right.”

As Sirius’ figure faded from the mirror a countdown clock appeared, the flashing green numbers letting them know that time was ticking and the game had begun.

****  


* * *

  


Something about Sirius was off, well, besides his insane Battle Royale proposal. More confused than ever, Hermione closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Concentrating, she tried to pull up the memory of Harry’s death, but could recall no further details surrounding the event. The scene felt so faint and fleeting, she could hardly accept it had happened. 

“I can’t believe Harry is gone! I feel like I’m in a parallel universe where everything is wrong and nothing is right. What happened to him? Why did all of you go silent at the mention of his name?” 

“Well, it’s not proper to speak of teen suicide in polite company, Granger, show a little decorum.” Draco interjected in a mocking tone. 

“Show a little, decorum?! You are unbelievable Malfoy! Are you incapable of showing Harry a little respect, even in death? You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being!” 

“Wah, cry me a river Princess Priss. Saint Potter and the Weasel’s death are clearly a case of survival of the fittest, one was too weak and the other too stupid and clumsy to live.” 

“You are the worst Malfoy! I don’t know how you sleep at night.” Hermione snapped.

“I sleep quite soundly, let me assure you Mudblood, especially now that there’s a little less filth polluting my world.” Hermione lunged at Draco, but Tom held her back from attacking. 

“Now Miss Granger, I understand this is a trying time for you and you are upset, but let’s not stoop to Draco’s level, I believe you’re above such behavior.” 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione swatted Tom’s hands off her person and stomped to the other side of the room.

“Well, this is just great. Like I have nothing better to do than stand around in this dingy room all day.” Pansy bristled, tossing her hair and stamping her foot like a petulant child. 

“Way to make light of the situation Pans.” Blaise countered. “You did hear Black say that we’re meant to kill each other, right? Or were you distracted by something shiny?” 

“Piss off Blaise, I heard that lunatic. He can’t possibly be serious, what am I supposed to do? Bludgeon you with the fireplace spade? And how is he planning to kill one of us when the times up? If he walks through the door with a wand, we can easily overpower him. It’s a ridiculous premise and he’s an idiot for thinking we’d participate. Besides, we’ve already searched the room and I didn’t see any weapons lying around. Pfft, but what can one really expect? He’s a Gryffindor and a man to boot, he doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”

“Pans, you do realize that most of the occupants in this room are men?” 

“My point exactly.” She sniped.

“Speaking of asses and elbows.” Draco trailed off, pulling the Italian aside. “I was in a tangle of them Friday night after the Hallow’s Eve party. You should have seen the girls fighting for my attention Blaise, they were practically gagging for it.” 

Elbowing him, Draco waggled his eyebrows and smirked. “One was dressed as a cat and the other a bunny, it was like my own sexy menagerie!” 

“Merlin Draco, you’re such a slut. Didn’t you have Astoria in your room last night?” Blaise shook his head chuckling.

“Well, I have to keep up appearances, my boy.” Draco grinned from ear to ear.

“Who are you, Slughorn? You know emulating the professor won’t get you an invite to slug club, right?” 

“Fuck you, Blaise, that man can only dream of being a Malfoy.” Draco spat, bitterness coloring his tone.

“Well, I had fun with a hot healer myself, because unlike you, I’m not into beasteality.” All teasing at once forgotten, they burst out into laughter.

Time dragged on slowly as they milled about the room. Hermione sat in a corner, using breathing exercises to meditate. She tried to determine how far back her memories had been tampered with and hoped to recollect the missing information. 

Pansy lounged with a hand across her forehead, sighing like a Victorian lady on her fainting couch. Draco and Blaise sat on the other sofa and continued talking and joking without a care in the world. 

Tom closely reexamined all entry and exit points. They were sealed with something much more powerful than a simple locking spell and his wandless magic ability specialized in torturing enemies or followers, not breaking down ancient family wards. Tom also detected an anti-disapparition jinx in place, though he doubted anyone besides himself capable of wandless apparition. The rest could rot in this prison for all he cared.

As the numbers ticked down toward zero, unwittingly they all gathered underneath the mirror watching the clock avidly, and wondering what would happen next. The numbers changed from green to red, 10...9...8. 

Draco nudged Blaise making an obscene hand gesture and snickering. 7...6. 

Pansy looked over at them and rolled her eyes. 5...4. 

Hermione chewed on her lip nervously crossing her arms. 3… 

Tom rocked back and forth on his heels in anticipation with a glint in his eyes. 2...1. 

A very loud and shrill alarm filled the room and a thick white smoke unfurled from the crack under the door.

Hermione walked over to check the doorknob, but it wasn’t hot. So it didn’t seem like there was a fire on the other side. Suddenly a blood curdling scream could be heard and turning sharply, Hermione’s eyes went wide, jaw slack at the horrific sight before her. 

Blaise Zabini was convulsing on the floor, clawing his face and howling as he bled from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. A pool of blood formed beneath him and covered his body more and more as he shook and rolled in agony. An eternity was felt in the thirty seconds he suffered, as silence engulfed the room.

Once again, Sirius appeared in the mirror, his eyes a bit crazed as he ran a hand through his long dark locks. 

“Children, what I failed to mention before, is that all of you have been injected with a different kind of poison. Each is unique in its side effects and activator. Should you find the rat and kill them, the survivors will be given an antidote. As you can see, I am deadly serious about this game, play or die. The choice is yours.”

His visage was replaced by the timer once more and the unwilling players were forced to see the game and each other with new eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

As if coming out of a trance, Draco grabbed the black fringe lamp nearby and threw it at the mirror screaming, “Come out here, you bloody coward. The only god damn rat is you, I’ll fucking kill you myself!” 

The ear-piercing sound of shattering glass had everyone scrambling for cover. Shards rained down like crystalline bolts aiming to strike anything in their path. 

Tom was surprised by this development. He frankly didn’t think Black had the guts to follow through with any of his threats. This game was getting quite interesting indeed. There were obvious flaws with the beginning premise, find the rat. 

One would think all parties gathered should have equal probability of being the culprit. However, Granger was not a part of his group and therefore could not be the rat. So then, why was she here. She was the key to this puzzle.

Pansy was stricken, yesterday her life was nearly perfection, but today she was trapped in a waking nightmare. Knowing that filthy blood traitor had put his hands on her, made her stomach churn. Another startling realization being that in an hours time, she could be next, and frankly she was too young and pretty to die.

Hermione ran to the bathroom and proceeded to throw up in the toilet. The smell of death clung to the air and she was suffocating. She laid her cheek on the cool seat cover and was assaulted by another memory. 

_It was almost curfew as Hermione hurried along an empty corridor, it just wouldn’t do for a prefect to get caught breaking the rules. Hearing voices nearby, she hid behind a suit of armor. Malfoy, Zabini, and Parkinson walked by not noticing her presence. They were laughing as they passed and she caught out the words, “Riddle, evil genius, celebrate, and Potter’s anniversary.”_

_It sounded like another nonsense scheme. She couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t just leave Harry alone, it was downright obsessive the way they targeted him above all others. She should warn him, so once they were gone, she snuck out and continued on to Gryffindor tower._

Standing on shaky legs, Hermione went over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She was tired of these fragmented recollections, they didn’t provide nearly enough useful information. Why had she been obliviated and by whom? How many days, weeks, or months was she missing? 

She gargled water in her mouth, spitting it out and tasting bitter acid on her tongue. She wanted to lay down to help calm her frazzled nerves, but she couldn’t face Zabini’s red coated body and cold dead eyes staring back at her. 

“I suppose I can’t stay holed up in this bathroom forever. Breathe Hermione, breathe.”

A decrepit and hunched house elf popped into the drawing room and snapped his fingers on both hands. The body of Blaise Zabini vanished and the mirror fragments no longer scattered the floor. The looking glass appeared as if Draco had never broken it in the first place. 

Before anyone could so much as utter the word stop, the elf was gone. Tom was furious, if he’d been standing closer to where that creature appeared, then it could’ve been his ticket out of here. He had missed a golden opportunity, but at least now he knew, that an elf would be round to collect another dead body in an hour.

****  


* * *

  
As Hermione stepped out, she was surprised to see a dark red stain on the rug where Zabini’s body once lay. Dry heaving at the reminder of the grotesque image his mangled form made, she was more determined than ever to get out of this room. Sitting and analyzing the whys and whats of this situation was getting her nowhere. 

She recalled someone saying that the others had searched the room before she awoke, but surely they must have missed something, a clue of some kind. Her gut told her there was something here, what or where, she couldn’t be certain, but Hermione’s instincts rarely steered her wrong. 

Seeing the Granger girl walk out of the bathroom, Tom made his way over to Pansy. 

“Follow me.” He hissed in her ear and advanced toward the vacated door. “Now.”

Pansy realized nothing good could come out of being alone with Riddle, but knew a worse fate would await her, should she refuse. It was surprising he bothered to separate her from the others at all, Draco already saw behind the mask. Why bother keeping up appearances in front of the Mudblood? The door closing felt an awful lot like a nail in her coffin. 

Tom waved his hand at the door, casting a silencing spell on the room and proceeded to stare at the Parkinson girl with hard eyes. She stood tall and poised, only her hands revealing a slight tremble as they tightly gripped her skirt. His direct gaze often unnerved his followers and interrogation required a degree of intimidation, a certain finesse. 

Pansy had proven useful in the past, but turning traitor was a grave sin indeed, and not one to go unpunished. Today he was judge, jury and executioner and he relished this role to play. There was a satisfaction in wielding one’s power over others. 

There was a thrill to be felt in destruction, in chaos, in surrendering to one’s base instincts. A grin spread across his lips and he closed the distance between them.

“Pansy, Pansy, Pansy…” he trailed off, “You disappoint me.” 

Tom pointed his index finger at her like a gun. 

“Bang.” 

She started hyperventilating and fell against the wall clutching her chest. 

“I found this fascinating little spell while looking for, well, it doesn’t really matter to you, I suppose. It mimics the conditions of heart failure, you see, right now one of your heart valves is collapsing in on itself. Quite an unpleasant feeling, I imagine. You’re sweating rather profusely Miss Parkinson, I’d recommend you see someone about that, but I suppose under the current circumstances, it’s to be expected.” 

Tom waved his hand over her, breaking the curse and watched as Pansy crumpled to the tile floor.

“Now tell me, were you the one to reveal my secrets to that disgraceful blood traitor? I can promise you this, if you lie to me right now, you will beg for death at Black’s hands. His killing a kindness to what I will do to you for trying to deceive me.” 

“T-T-T-Tom.” Tom glared as Pansy scrambled to her knees. 

“I mean Dark Lord, it wasn’t me, I swear! I’m innocent and I promise you on my life, on the honor of house Parkinson, that I would never betray you!” 

Tom sighed, he was bored just looking at her. She was merely another pathetic servant, not worthy of his time or attention. 

“Get up Miss Parkinson, wipe your face and send in Malfoy after you.” 

“Yes, of course Dark Lord, your wish is my command.”

Having composed himself from his earlier outburst, Draco looked over at Granger as she combed the room. She opened each broken china cabinet door running her fingers along the tops and bottoms of shelves, flipping through books, and opening small trinket boxes. 

She bent down to examine the lower cupboards and riffled through whatever worthless junk they held, in a vain search for what, he was unsure. It was a rather amusing sight, like a frantic mouse scurrying about, well, it would have been, if Blaise hadn’t been brutally murdered right before his eyes. 

Draco’s mind was a mess, Blaise had been one of his closest friends and didn’t deserve that fate, none of them did, well maybe Riddle, but that was neither here nor there. My father will hear of this, echoed in his ears, remembering a simpler time when all his problems could be solved so easily. When Blaise would grin and sneer right along with him, as they mocked their enemies. 

Pansy stepped out of the bathroom, looking paler than before and nodded at him. Shit, he knew that he’d be next, but a part of him hoped Riddle’s interrogation of her would prove fruitful and he could skip out on the torture session. Exhaling, he steeled himself for the pain to come.

Tom knew Malfoy must be the rat by process of elimination, there was no one but he who remained a possibility. Betrayal burned in his veins like gasoline, his magic crackling the air, ready to ignite his wrath like a vengeful god. 

As Draco entered the room, the door slammed shut behind him and he gulped looking up at the man that now haunted his dreams. He immediately kneeled in supplication and bowed his head in reverence.

“You called for me Dark Lord?”

“Crucio.” Tom spat, watching in mild amusement as the Malfoy heir wriggled on the ground like a fish out of water. _Pathetic_ , he thought. Waving a hand to end the curse, he kicked Draco in the stomach for good measure, finally feeling a release from the all consuming anger, that had him seeing red before. “Do you have nothing to say for yourself Malfoy? Or would you like another round of cruciatus?”

“No, no my Lord! I have nothing to say, or, um, what I mean is, what is it you want me to say?” Draco stumbled over words, struggling to say anything at all.

“I want to hear the truth, obviously. There is a rat amongst us and if it isn’t myself, the Mudblood, or Miss Parkinson, then I can only conclude..”

“It isn’t me! I swear it!” Draco interrupted breathlessly.

“Did you and Miss Parkinson rehearse what you were going to say? Hmm? You sound exactly like her.” Tom scoffed while rolling his eyes at yet another sycophant parroting pretty words to save their own skin.

“No, of course not, my Lord. Pansy and I, are just as in the dark, as you. For all we know, Blaise was the rat.” Draco babbled, flinching as Riddle took a step toward him.

“Well that doesn’t make sense, Zabini is dead. If he were the rat, shouldn’t this wretched game be over?”

“What about any of this makes sense, my Lord?” Draco supplied, quickly bowing his head once more.

“I suppose you have a point for once Malfoy.” Huffing, Tom pushed past Draco out the door, irritated at being no closer to finding the guilty party.

Hermione went over to the couches, pulling up cushions and flipping pillows. Then moved over to the piano where she lifted the lid to get a better view inside. She felt a prickly sensation along her skin and froze. Slowly removing her head, she turned, eyes darting around the room, to land on the figure of Tom Riddle staring rather intensely in her direction. She tilted her head to the side in response raising an eyebrow in question, before looking away and resuming her task at hand.

Walking along the walls she removed hanging pictures and examined the frames. Crouching while going through one of the cabinets by the fireplace, a shadow fell over her. Glancing up, Hermione was met with Riddle’s face inches from her own. Startled, she fell over.

“Here, let me help you up.” Riddle smiled charmingly, offering his hand like a gentleman.

“No thanks, I can manage.” Hermione replied, standing and dusting her jeans.

“What are you searching for so intently Miss Granger?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know Riddle. Although, I suppose it would be quicker if we worked together.”

“But of course, I’m never one to turn away a lady in need.”

“I’m sure.” She replied, ignoring his innuendo.

“Why don’t you go through the other cabinet, while I continue searching this one.”

“You didn’t mention what it is I’m looking for.”

“That’s because I don’t know what it is either. But I’m sure we’ll know when we find it.”

Tom and Hermione continued pulling out dusty heirlooms to inspect, while carefully examining the interior shelves and walls for any hidden compartments.

“How are you feeling Miss Granger, you must still be terribly upset after finding out about the death of your friends so suddenly.”

“I am, still upset that is. I don’t understand why Sirius would orchestrate this whole thing. It doesn’t seem like him, but then again, he must’ve been absolutely devastated when he found out about Harry’s suicide. He and Harry were very close.”

“Yes, the sun will shine just a bit duller with Potter’s glowing light having been snuffed out so tragically.”

“Are you mocking his death right now?”

“Of course not, I was merely implying that he was beloved amongst his peers, that’s all.”

“Ok, sure, I suppose you’re right.” Hermione mumbled shaking her head.

“Were the two of you an item?”

“What? No. We were like brother and sister.”

“Oh, I guess everyone just assumed.”

“To assume makes an ass out of you and me.”

“Full of quips aren’t you?”

“You’re rather full of something.”

“Now please, Miss Granger, we were having a perfectly lovely conversation. Let’s not argue senselessly.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just so strange, you talking to me. I don’t think you’ve said 10 words to me since we’ve known each other.”

“Well, now is the perfect opportunity for us to change all that, don’t you think? I’ve rather enjoyed talking with you so far. You’re not as shallow as Pansy or as pompous as Draco. I really don’t know why I hang out with them.”

“Really? I would wonder that myself, if I were you.” Hermione chuckled unable to hide a smile.

****  


* * *

  
Groaning Hermione shoved frizzy locks off her face, “I was sure I’d find something, I have this nagging feeling like I’m missing something, well besides my memories, that is.” In exasperation, she kicked the corner of the rug, a glint of something gold shining like a beacon on the greyness of the floor. She gasped.

“Miss Granger? What is it? Did you find something?” Tom followed her eyes to see the gleam of a small ornate golden key. In three long strides he was upon her and plucked it off the ground. Briskly walking over to the door, he looked back at the clock to see there were 15 minutes remaining. The other three promptly crowding him as he put the key into the doorknob and turned.

It clicked and everyone let out a collective sigh.

Draco was the first to dart out of the room and straight for the front door. Fool, Tom mused. Did he really think escape would be as simple as that? A spoiled heir like Malfoy had nothing but rocks between his ears. Draco shook the knob and screamed in frustration, banging on the door, he yelled obscenities and pleas for rescue in a futile attempt to get help.

“I think we should stick together.” Hermione stated. “Sirius could be anywhere and we don’t want to give him the opportunity to pick us off one by one.

If Tom were a betting man at the horse track, he’d take a guess that this race was fixed, and that favorite horse Granger was the only one meant to cross the finish line. Yes, he would be sticking with her, as closely as he could manage. If he could convince the Mudblood of his innocence and decency, she might then plead with Black to spare the two of them. Otherwise, she would make a convenient hostage with which to negotiate his release. Either way, he needed to get into her good graces.

After checking all obvious exits, they started in the basement to see if there were any potential escape routes Sirius had overlooked. They scoured each floor, until coming upon the fourth where Sirius’ and Regulus’ bedrooms were located. With a mischievous grin, Draco grabbed Pansy by the arm and made his way to their captor’s chamber with Tom and Hermione following behind.

“I’m going to piss all over that asshole’s bed.”

“Gross, Draco, could you be any more childish.”

“Oh please Pansy, like you’re a paragon of maturity.”

“Whatever, do what you want.” Pansy grumbled, clearly annoyed with the blonde.

Draco turned to hop on the bed for better access to Black’s pillow.

Time moved in slow motion as Hermione took in the span of 5 seconds with startling clarity. From the doorway of the bedroom, she looked over at the large spindle bed that took up most of the space. Her stomach dropped, something was not right. She saw the glint of something silver crudely attached to a post, her mind supplying the word pipe. 

She then noticed it was connected to a string, not really grasping what that meant. Malfoy’s body flopped onto the mattress and Hermione’s eyes went wide. As he bounced up into the air, she saw an orange flash and bright burst of light, followed by a cloud of grey smoke. 

Her ears were buzzing from a high pitch ringing that morphed into the sound of an anguished wail. Hermione doubled over coughing, tears trailing down dust covered cheeks. She refocused as she blinked, but the scene in front of her was so terrible and gruesome, she almost wished to have been blinded by the explosion.

Pansy, who had been standing at the foot of the bed when the bomb detonated, was unconscious after the force of the blast knocked her into the fireplace. She was splattered with blood and chunks of flesh. 

Draco on the other hand, was very much awake with a look of unparalleled fear reflected in glazed over eyes. Big gulping gasps echoed in the room as he struggled desperately to breathe. Hermione had to turn away from the sight, glimpses of gore seared into the back of her eyelids. 

His left side had disintegrated, leaving jagged flesh that was gushing blood onto the bed. Angry burns covered the rest of his body and within a few minutes, Draco Malfoy fluttered his eyes closed for the last time.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione ran from the scene throwing open the door to the other bedroom across the hall. Breathing in deeply and dry heaving for the second time that day, she wondered how much more carnage she could take. Tom Riddle strolled in calmly behind her, appearance somehow pristine without a hair out of place, despite having stood in the doorway behind her when the bomb went off.

“Well, that was unexpected.” He commented dryly.

“That’s all you have to say? After what you just witnessed? Malfoy was your friend, wasn’t he?”

“He was more acquaintance than anything. We hung in the same circles, knew a lot of the same people, but we didn’t agree on many fundamental ideologies, if you will.”

“What? I just, you disagree, I’m sorry, but I just can’t deal with this conversation right now.” Hermione excused herself and went down to the bathroom a few floors below. Getting into the shower to scrub away the smoke, dust, and blood spatter, she cried harder than she remembered ever crying before. Large body wracking sobs that vibrated throughout her frame. She cried for the death of Harry Potter, for Ron Weasley, and even for her fellow game participants or rather victims, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. 

She zoned out, staring at the water droplets falling and splashing off her body and the dull surfaces of the shower. Her mind wandering when she was flooded with a new memory once more.

_The great hall was decorated for the All Hallow’s Eve feast later that day, carved pumpkins floating above their heads. The Hogwarts castle decorations were pretty much the same every year, but Hermione loved it. The familiar trimmings timeless and always setting the tone for a festive holiday._

_With the arrival of the morning owl post, Harry’s hands shook gripping an envelope and what appeared to be a small stack of photographs._

_“Harry, are you ok? What did you receive?”_

_“It’s nothing, I’ve gotta go to the loo.” Harry darted up from the table and out the doorway._

_He left still clutching the envelope tightly and was acting very suspicious. Hermione knew something was up, Merlin, anyone could tell from the look on his face upon opening it. She quickly excused herself, hot on her friend’s heels._

_Walking brisky out into the hallway, Harry came to an abrupt halt. He slammed his clenched fist into a wall letting out a strangled cry, pulling away bloody knuckles, he threw the photos, followed by a blasting hex in quick succession._

_Glaring at the flaming remnants and small hole in the floor, he left the mess, never looking back to notice Hermione hiding in the shadows. As she walked up to the aftermath, a couple photos had survived Harry’s fit of rage. One was of Draco chuckling throwing a similar blasting hex at James Potter’s tombstone. The other of Draco and Blaise pissing on Lily Potter’s grave and Pansy doubled over in laughter._

Well, that explained how the Slytherin trio ended up in this game. It was also well known that they mercilessly bullied Harry without provocation. It didn’t make clear as to why Riddle was here, but maybe Sirius assumed he was involved since Riddle was the unofficial leader of Slytherin House. Though, there was that memory of the three mentioning Riddle’s name when joking of this despicable act the night before. Could Riddle have been the mastermind behind it all along? No, that didn’t make sense, surely not. He was never involved in Harry’s torment, from what she’d seen. Surely that sneaking suspicion was just paranoia playing tricks on her. 

Sirius must blame this harassment as being responsible for Harry’s suicide. She was disgusted by their behavior, to desecrate the Potter’s graves, then send it to Harry on the anniversary of their death was too much. The bullying was one thing, but this, this act was as bad as a hate crime, as far as she was concerned.

As her tears dried and the water turned cold, she felt a calming numbness wash over her. That explosive could’ve taken out any one of them, there was no rhyme or reason to the rules, this game was illogical. No, Hermione would not go out like this, she was a survivor and frankly, she was the only one that didn’t deserve to be here. With a strengthened resolve, she made her way back to Riddle in Regulus’ room.

Tom was glad the Granger girl left when she did. Trying to fake sadness over Malfoy’s death was distasteful, he’d much rather spit on the ferret’s dead corpse than shed crocodile tears. They were getting close to the end game, he could feel it in his bones. Tom wondered how this death affected the countdown clock, they hadn’t seen it since they left the drawing room. Now that they weren’t trapped in the one area, he would imagine it would be harder for Black to pull another stunt like before, unless he just smoked out the whole house. The timing of Malfoy’s death was nearly in congruence with the hour deadline. It was rather fortuitous in his opinion, but bleeding heart Granger might not agree so readily with that sentiment.

Hermione knew a showdown with Sirius Black was inevitable, but she dreaded the prospect of having to harm or even kill a man she once considered family. They hadn’t seen signs of him anywhere after searching all levels of the house so far, which left only the attic as the last floor yet to be explored. Unless Sirius wasn’t here at all, then the attic was where the final battle would occur. 

Rifling through the drawers of a tall dresser, Hermione felt something sharp prick her fingers. There concealed under a pile of folded clothing lay a beautiful and ancient looking dagger. How appropriate to find such an archaic weapon, this game unfolding much like a greek tragedy play. Sirius performing the role of the chorus, was always one for dramatics. She was about to put it back when Riddle stopped her hand. 

“You might want to hang onto that. Black could be upstairs waiting for us. Better not to go up there empty-handed.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Hermione said, sighing in resignation.

“I think I heard Pansy stirring in Black’s room.” Riddle offered.

“We should go back and grab her before heading up then.”

“You go, I didn’t finish looking around here. Who knows what other useful tools could be hidden away.” He said, continuing to peruse the area.

“Yeah, okay. Goodbye.” She mumbled, a bit disappointed for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“See you soon, Hermione.” Hermione furrowed her brow at Riddle, but said nothing as she left.

Pansy groaned in her sitting position dragging a palm against the side of her face. Rapidly blinking eyes were met by the sight of a dark spot on the bed. Just like the blood on the rug downstairs this red stain the only testament that remained of her childhood mates.

Seeing the Mudblood traipse in as if she deserved to be alive, to breathe, while her oldest and best Pureblood friends died grisly deaths, snapped something inside of Pansy. And was that a dagger in her hands? Did this swotty little shrew think she could slice her throat while knocked out cold. Oh no, this wouldn’t do at all. That cunt wouldn’t get the better of Pansy, she was in for a rude awakening.

As Hermione made her way toward Parkinson, she was surprised by the dazed looking girl, suddenly hopping up to attack her.

Pansy tried wrestling the dagger out of Hermione’s grip as she came to a terrible realization.

“Parkinson, stop! I’m not trying to hurt you. Let go!”

“I’m so sure you Mudblood bitch. Come round to stab me in my sleep, have you?!”

“Pansy, I wasn’t trying to kill you. We found this knife and I’m carrying it should we run into Sirius!”

Pansy too far gone to listen to reason, maneuvered the dagger into her own hands and brought it down toward Hermione’s chest while knocking her into the wall. Panic and adrenaline rushing through her veins, Hermione rolled them to the side and twisted the knife’s trajectory to swiftly stab into Pansy’s soft flesh. Horrified with this turn of events, Hermione jumped back, in shock over her own actions. Parkinson dropped to the floor on her back, a queer smile gracing her lips, as if welcoming death’s sweet embrace.

There standing in the doorway leaning against the jamb, was a smirking Riddle, gazing at her as if the murder of one’s peers was a perfectly normal occurrence.

“Didn’t you hear us? Why did you just stand there? You could’ve helped me subdue her!”

“You had the situation under control.”

“Do you think I wanted to kill her in cold-blood?”

“Oh, from what I could tell, you were quite the opposite of cold-blooded. You were rather emotional about the whole thing, I wasn’t sure you’d be the one to make it out on top.”

Hermione gaped at Riddle watching as he leaned down to pull the knife from Pansy’s lifeless body. Handing the blade to her, he then pivoted on his heel and started moving to the stairs.

“You should take that with you, shall we?” He motioned his head for her to follow.

“I guess now is as good a time as any.” Hermione breathed, shaking her head at his nonchalance.

She took one last glance at Pansy, saying a silent prayer that her soul should find peace. Hermione was never particularly religious, but she  
prayed to any god that would listen for forgiveness of the sins that now blackened her heart.

They stood outside the door to their final destination, taking a moment to collect themselves, before pushing it open to see what was on the other side.

****  


* * *

  
Sirius Black’s grin was so wide, it distorted his features into a caricature of his once handsome face. He stood in a dueling stance wand at the ready, pointed at Riddle.

“I knew you would be the one to join me for the final act of my magnum opus. It’s only fitting, that you should jump off the roof to your death like poor, innocent Harry. Isn’t this perfect Hermione? The bastards responsible for murdering Harry are all getting what they deserve!”

“Sirius, you can’t mean that.” Hermione shook her head, thinking him delirious from the loss.

Without warning, Tom lunged at Black, slamming into his body with his own. Wrestling and rolling on the floor, Tom ended up in the top position. He made to grab the wand from Black’s hand, but the stick was gripped so tightly that it snapped as Riddle continued trying to pry it from his fingers. Knowing Black no longer had the advantage of magic against him, Riddle proceeded to pummel Black’s face with his fists. Tom sat up further, still pinning Black’s body beneath him. Looking over to some nearby boxes of junk, he grabbed a tarnished trophy and brought it down on Sirius’ head. Blood sprayed out of a gash he made as he continued to hit Black’s face with the heavy object.

Hermione couldn’t move. She couldn’t make a sound. It was as if Riddle had cast a Petrificus Totalus on her. She was horrified as she watched Riddle look absolutely giddy to be beating a man to death right before her eyes. With each continued blow, more blood sprayed onto him, he looked positively mad, lost in a bloodlust she couldn’t fathom.

Satisfied with his retribution, Riddle stood up and cast a wandless scourgify on himself.

“Come on, it’s time to get out of here.”

Hermione followed silently. As they made their way downstairs, Riddle turned to her and smiled.

“I had fun today, you played well.”

He reached for the front door only to find it locked. Tilting his head in contemplation, he tried the knob once more.

“How strange, the doors are still locked, even after the host is dead.”

Hermione stared at him blankly. Her eyes clouding over, as she slipped into the final memories she had been missing.

Her mind recounted the conversation of the Slytherin trio, lingering on the words, _evil genius_. Then went on to the scene in the hallway and examining the photographs, wondered who was taking the pictures? She came upon the first memory, but recalled it in more detail. Harry moving _robotically_ toward the astronomy tower railing. Ron running after him yelling, “No Harry! Don’t do it, we love you, you have so much to live for mate!”

Rushing after Ron, but catching movement in her peripheral vision. Looking back to see Riddle mouthing, what looked like the word _offendo_ , the tripping jinx as he slipped out the door. Whipping her head forward to see Ron grabbing for Harry, but tripping and them both tumbling over.

Lastly an out-of-body experience, looking down on a disheveled and crazed Hermione going to Sirius Black, confessing everything she had seen and additional crimes she deduced. How Tom Riddle was the one responsible for Harry and Ron’s deaths, along with the Slytherin trash. That they were all equally guilty and didn’t deserve to live. Her raging how Harry and Ron must be avenged. She got flashes of herself, sitting at a desk in 12 Grimmauld Place quill in hand, madly scribbling detailed plans for this game of revenge and cackling as she imagined each tormentor paying for their wicked deeds in blood.

The school was shut down for a week in mourning, they would set the game for three days out. Hermione would participate to make sure everything went smoothly and to enjoy watching the pain and suffering of her enemies. As the day grew nearer, however, Hermione started to have doubts. Her conscience was eating away at her for plotting such cruel punishments. She went to Sirius and explained her apprehension, her uncertainty to go through with something of this nature which could never be undone.

Sirius wouldn’t hear her out though. He was dead set on continuing with the plans that she had so meticulously plotted out. If she wasn’t with him, then she was against him. What would Harry say, to know that his best friend was backing out on righting the wrongs against him. Hermione tried to reason, tried to argue, but tired of talking and determined to move on, Sirius pointed his wand at her fondly as he whispered, “Obliviate.”

“It was you, wasn’t it!” She screeched.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Riddle said looking at her in confusion.

“ _You_ were behind the vandalization of the Potter’s graves and sent the photos. _You_ used imperio on Harry to jump off the roof and _You_ cast a tripping jinx to make Ron fall right along with him.” She accused pacing in tight circles, she continued muttering to herself. “I can’t believe Sirius would go through with this game without my consent. How dare he obliviate me! I was the one that came up with this plan in the first place. I altered the family wards, I researched death scenarios, and I determined every last detail down to where to store the wands and diary.”

The puzzled expression melted from Riddle’s face as he assessed her with a coldness that made the air drop in temperature.

“You know where my wand and diary is being kept?”

“Hmm?” Hermione murmured coming back from her stream of consciousness to realize she’d been talking aloud this whole time. 

“I should kill you myself.” Hermione frowned, pointing the dagger she still held at him. Tom swatted it out of his face and looked at her expectantly.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that day, she breathed out, “Follow me.”

They walked back to Sirius’ bedroom and she pulled down the damaged tapestry hanging behind the bed. There in the wall was a secret safe. Hermione knowing the combination, opened the door and pulled out her own wand, feeling pleasure course through her as if being reunited with an old friend. She handed Riddle his own wand, which he eagerly snatched from her fingers. She took down the wards and cancelled the anti-disapparition jinx. She then heard him clear his throat, tapping his foot impatiently with his hand out, as if to say, _today_?

Hermione reached back in feeling dark magic flowing from the little black book. Stuck by how something so elegant and unassuming, could house such great evil, much like it’s master. Turning to him holding it to her chest, she surprised him, by tossing it over the bed and into the corner of the room. As he moved to go retrieve it, quick as lightning, she cast fiendfyre at the diary and with a pop, was gone.

As the flames danced in his eyes, he felt blood rushing through him, throbbing to parts that sparked a desire he hadn’t known before. He gazed at the empty space she once stood in and licked his lips. Oh, she thought herself very clever, did she? Destroying one of his most precious treasures only to run and hide. But this game wasn’t over, not by any means. There were new rules to play by, his rules, and he relished to taste the sweetness of victory.

****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To be continued in The Lying Game, coming soon! Thanks for reading.


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